


Don't Stop Talking and Nobody Blows Up

by CaraLea



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Biting, F/M, Knifeplay, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Outdoor Sex, Overexercise, Overstimulation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraLea/pseuds/CaraLea
Summary: In the years post-Freelancer, Carolina has met her fair share of challenges in life.  And in his time since the war, Felix has found it, not hard, but impossible to return to civilian life.  She's a charismatic soldier with a gruff exterior, but a heart of gold.  He is a bloodthirsty merc with a bad attitude.  So what happens when they meet?
Warning: This is rated Explicit for a reason.  Read the tags and proceed with caution.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For a writing challenge: Take a show with 2 characters you ship, take their voice actors/actresses, find another show they're in, ship it. So I took Jaune/Pyrrha and ended up with....Felix/Carolina?? You bet! Personally, the more I worked on it, the more I liked it. It kinda...works.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or message me if you have something you wanna say! Shout out to Levi Blake (yeah, the doofus whose account I'm using) for being an awesome beta and brother! Couldn't have done it without you(:
> 
> Also, I definitely used a character from [saltsanford's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford) fanfiction [Put My Guns in the Ground](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6734932/chapters/18086098) Which is an awesome work of pure ART there and I love it. Her character is Dr. James.
> 
> CL

Carolina felt positively naked without her armor. Her feet, wrapped in comfortably worn sneakers, slapped all too bare against the linoleum floors. Each tile shone up at her more than bright. In fact, all light was too much for her sensitive eyes without her visor there to filter it.

If given the choice, she wouldn’t be out of armor at all, but she didn’t have a choice. Dr. James—one of the doctors in the infirmary—had given her orders to relax today. Carolina’s version of relaxing was beating the nearest punching bag to a pulp, but apparently James had informed her comrades about the disagreeable order. Between the time it took her to raise her fist and smash it against the near-solid bag, Wash had suddenly appeared. At first he’d gently chastised her, but the uncomfortable look on his face had Carolina faltering. There was something up with him. 

After a small fight turned huge argument and a couple of well-aimed blows on Wash’s part, Carolina was dragged in front of James and (to her horror) Kimball. The key was to _not_ exercise, or do anything for that matter. Carolina had tried to argue but Dr. James detailing her own earlier worries to her again (this time with medical backing) had Carolina reluctantly admitted defeat. 

Dr. James didn’t trust her though, not that Carolina blamed her. It had been her desire to physically strip Carolina of her armor until she was forced to walk without it. Much screaming, several colorful words, and another fistfight with Wash and Carolina had unwillingly shed her armor and (oh God) it was taken away from her. Stored elsewhere, well out of her reach. Epsilon had gone with Tucker and now she was alone and all too exposed, wandering around Armonia on high alert.

A group of cadets stopped in their tracks, jaws open, eyes wide, _gawking_ at her as if she were an unexpected, fascinating work of art. Or an interesting piece of gossip. True, many of these young people had never seen her without her armor, but they didn’t have to stare at her like that. She tried to convey her frustration and anger through her movements, her venomous glare that she threw at them, but that didn’t get them to turn away. Without her armor, she wasn’t nearly as intimidating to them as she was when she had it on. Now she had a face, an identity other than “scary freelancer lady”, and it drew their attention to her but lost her the ringing authority she usually had. Her short stature didn’t help these matters.

Carolina had brought this on herself. She _knew_ that, really she did. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t for her own good. But now, when people were openly staring, _shamelessly_ staring, she regretted ever talking to that wretched doctor. At the time, she hadn’t thought of the consequences. She’d been too busy worrying about what was _happening_ to her body that she didn’t even consider what the doctor would do to “help” her.

Thirty-five years, two weeks, and a day. That was how old Carolina was the day the ship crashed. Two weeks and one day after her thirty-fifth birthday. Almost a year had gone by since. So thirty-six years old. That was her age.

Back in Freelancer, when her body had first responded this way, she’d panicked for a different reason. Thoughts of cancer or other nefarious diseases wound through her brain so tight she’d struggled to comprehend what was happening to her. She’d been scared and embarrassed and had waited _months_ before stumbling into the infirmary, mumbling to the doctor that she’d missed her period 3 months in a row. It wasn’t until he took a blood sample that the thought of _babies_ had wound its way into her mind. Not that _that_ was a possibility. Carolina couldn’t have had babies without male assistance, and she certainly had not sought any in a very long time… 

No babies. No cancer. As it turned out, losing the menstrual cycle was totally normal for someone as physically active as her. Not healthy, per se, but normal. After all the work she put her body through on a daily basis with little to no rest, the loss of menstruation was completely expected.

Its bloody and disgusting return after she’d left Freelancer had been unwelcome by that point. She was so used to not having one, to being under physical duress all the time that when she’d _finally_ relaxed enough to have one, it had been unexpected and very unwanted. 

But also comforting. It signified the end of her time as a warrior. Not that she’d ever quit being a soldier. No way. And she’d always have the warrior’s spirit. But she was no longer required to fight daily just for her survival, no longer pushing her body to such extremes that it couldn’t do completely normal (albeit gross) things. She was back to being as ordinary a woman as anyone like her could be.

Thirty-five years, two weeks, and a day. That was her age when they’d crashed. Eight months on Chorus. First in a Civil war, now in a real, bloody, young-people dying war. Thirty-five years, eight months, one week, and three days. That was her age when her periods stopped again. 

A fresh wave of panic rolled over her at the thought. She was exactly two weeks late, which probably meant nothing, except that she didn’t even have accompanying symptoms, like cramps or diarrhea or bloating or _anything_. It didn’t even hurt. And last month had been weak, barely any blood flow and some mild cramps. _Very_ mild. (At first she’d thought they were from a particularly tough workout but then she’d checked her underwear).

This had brought a whole new wave of molten panic to her. One entirely singular, unexpected and unfamiliar. She’d raced in to see Dr. James without thinking about the consequences- like losing her armor and being forced to “ _relax_ ”. She’d only thought about the fact that she was almost thirty-six and in just over four years she’d be facing a more permanent loss of her period and…

And… 

And any chance of ever having children.

Which was stupid because Carolina didn’t _want_ children. Never had in her whole life, not even when she was a little girl and still believed in happy endings. Babies were for older, more responsible people, and then when she was older and more responsible they were for people less skilled than her. They were for people who wanted to settle down and have families and that was _not_ Carolina, no thank you.

She’d thought about it after she left Freelancer. She’d considered, actually considered, finding York and settling down far away from everything with him and maybe, just maybe, they could’ve had a family together. She’d always talked herself out of it though, because, for all her fighting skills and history in the war, Carolina was scared shitless at the prospect of facing York after what she’d done. There was no way, _no way_ he could forgive her after what she’d done. _(He totally would have)._ After the Project was shut down and she learned what had happened to the Alpha she’d felt _even worse_ because clearly Tex had known, York had known, CT had known…probably everyone had known but her. How could she face him after that? No. Give it time. They’d find each other eventually.

They never found each other. 

The news of York’s death is what did it. Carolina didn’t hear until _way_ after the fact and somehow that made the blow even worse. He’d been gone, completely out of reach, and she hadn’t even known it. It was all her fault too. _She_ was the one who’d left him, _she_ was the one who’d pretended to be dead for so many years, _she_ was the one who should’ve reached out and didn’t. She had not pulled the trigger but if she’d just reached out sooner, they could’ve been together, she could have been there to save him or stop him. Tex probably wouldn’t have _dared_ approached York with Carolina by his side and perhaps York would still be alive. York’s death was Carolina’s fault.

God. She was starting to sound as dramatic as Wash.

Wash. He was another person she found herself staring at far too often. Not that she _wanted_ him in that way, but that she wanted _someone_. Someone who could understand her predicament and help her through it. After all they’d been through together in Freelancer, it was no wonder she was drawn to Wash by an invisible string, and he to her, (although not in that way. Besides, Carolina was fairly certain that she wasn’t Wash’s type.)

So, Wash was off-limits. Which was fine with her because, really, he was just a placeholder for someone else. With York gone, she didn’t know who else to put in that role. Some nameless, faceless dude with whom she could settle and raise a family. 

There was no dude. In fact, there was no getting around that she’d be spending her upcoming birthday alone and barren on an estranged planet in the middle of a terrifying war. Sometime in the next fifteen years or less her body would change for good, permanently taking away the option she’d been denying herself her whole life.

What if she changed her mind?

_It doesn’t matter._ she repeated to herself. _I’d make a terrible mother._ Well that much was true. She’d be a horrible mother. Probably she’d have a brat child who whined a lot with wide baby blue eyes, screaming at the top of their lungs, and she’d ruffle their brown hair and-

It wasn’t real. Wasn’t happening. Which was fine. She was fine.

…

Carolina took a walk to clear her head. Ordinarily, she’d be completely against wandering around outside without her armor. But what else was she going to do? She couldn’t be in her room alone with her thoughts any longer. So she found herself wrapped in some old sweats and pacing restlessly around the perimeter. 

This was stupid. She shouldn’t be anywhere near the perimeter without her armor on. What if she got hurt? What if a battle started _right then_ and she couldn’t get back to her armor in time? (Not that she could easily access her armor anyway, damn that stupid doctor!)

There were too many what-if’s and Carolina was _not_ comfortable. But her feet, wrapped in her old shoes, marched on anyway in their purposeless momentum. It was anybody’s guess _where_ they were carrying her. Carolina figured she could only find out if she went with them.

It’s not like the outer wall wasn’t beautiful. It totally was. Enormous tress with extended branches, draping ferns, and leaves of a variety of eye-catching colors. In a way, it almost reminded her of home. Only the trees at home didn’t have purple radioactive fungus on them. Oh well, can’t have it all.

Her feet carried her towards them. An electric fence separated her from the arbors, but their long limbs arched high overhead. Without the tint of her visor, the colors looked even brighter. Unreal, almost, like they were made with crayons.

She was so distracted by the colorful trees that she probably wasn’t paying as much attention to her surroundings as she ordinarily would have. Maybe if she had been, she might have noticed him sooner. As it was, the first warning she had that she wasn’t alone was a resounding crack from about 20 feet further along the walkway. First her head whipped around, hair slapping the side of her cheek with the momentum. Then her entire body turned, falling automatically into fighting stance as she faced the unknown. Another crack. Then a _person_ , a real live _person_ slammed into the ground.

Her first thought was a shout of _what the living fuck!_ but the fight instinct was stronger. An eerie calm came over her, seeping through her spine and extending to every limb. Her digits dug into harder into her fist, calming her. Carolina was the number one freelancer. She could handle anything.

The stranger got to his knees slowly, eyeballing her with a wicked grin as he pulled himself to his feet. For a moment she hesitated. He was…actually kind of good looking, even with that ugly smirk plastered to his face. But Carolina noted the knife clutched in his hand and shook the feeling away. Good looks didn’t make a good person. _God_ did she know that. As he fell into fighting stance, a thought fluttered across her mind: _this could only be bad_.

Carefully, step by step, he began to edge toward her, circling in as if she had her own gravitational pull. His face was lit by a wicked grin that would give lesser soldiers pause but not Carolina. She was in the pinnacle of calm. Okay maybe she was a little excited. It had been too long since she’d fought without armor, and she looked forward the feel of skin on skin contact when she pounded her fist into his pretty face. 

“Stupid, wandering around without armor,” he teased suddenly, and his voice was so shockingly familiar that Carolina really did stop then.

“Felix?” she asked without thinking. It clicked into place then, the orange-tipped hair, the height, the long limbs. His sharp nose and dark brown eyes…He kind of looked like his armor. Not exactly but similar. It was kind of a shame, actually. He really was an attractive person. Too bad she’d be beating him to a pulp in just a minute. 

This made him stop, losing his stance in favor of standing up taller in surprise. His wicked grin faltered for just a second before growing even stronger. “Wait a minute. I _know_ that voice.” He leaned forward, examining her messy red bun and bright green eyes. “Can it really be _Agent_ _Carolina_ without her armor _?_ ”

For some reason this only made Carolina incredibly self-conscious. She was an idiot. Hadn’t she told that wretched Doctor, yelled it at Wash, explained to _everyone_ why wearing armor at all times was important? _For this very reason_? And now here she was, squaring off against one of the enemy’s greatest fighters without any sort of protection. 

“Well I don’t see you in armor!” she spat back. Stupid. What made her say that? It was egging him on. She gulped as his eyes roved over her unarmored form.

He snorted. “I came down here to fight what appeared to be a simple cadet. I mean come on, who else would be so stupid to wander the perimeter without armor when anyone could be spying from these trees?”

Carolina growled, leaning forward into fighting stance again. He had been spying on them. He had been watching. He had planned on killing her. Well, he was certainly in for a surprise. Even without her armor, Carolina could not be taken down easily. 

His hand waved wildly, gesticulating with every word. Carolina registered briefly that he was back into fighting stance, edging closer despite his seemingly distracted nature. “At least I tried to make the fight fair! Maybe I _should_ go get my armor. That would even the odds.”

“No chance,” she retorted bluntly, and in a burst of speed, landed the first strike.

Carolina wasn’t just a good fighter. And she hadn’t made the top of the Freelancer leaderboard by being pretty okay. She certainly hadn’t given up her physical wellbeing time and time again, stressing her body out so bad it didn’t function like a regular body anymore to be only good at what she did.

No. Carolina was an _excellent_ fighter. She was a _master_ of the martial arts. So when Felix brought his arm for the hit, she parried it easily complete with a counterstrike. His knife flashing towards her torso made her smirk. Blocked.

Fighting always brought with it a rush. The feel of her knuckles connecting with flesh, slightly more painful than she remembered, sharpened her senses. There was a smell permeating the air, tree sap combined with body odors. It heightened the sensations coursing through her body. She was struck with a sense of unreality as he swung wide. Ducked.

Carolina would never admit it, but fighting was a lot like dancing to her. Well it was a lot like dancing in general: two partners tussling in close quarters, every step had a counter step, every movement was meant to be fluid and graceful. But for Carolina it went a little deeper than that. There was an intimacy between combatants, a closeness that could only come with breathing into each other’s space and matching footfall for footfall.

Felix was _good_ at this. His slashes with the blade and strikes with his fist certainly kept Carolina on her toes. It was an array of motions slowly forming a pattern. Strike, blocked. Slash, dodged. Kick…shit.

The breath left her when his foot connected with her stomach. _Holy crap_ she’d forgotten what it felt like to be hit without her armor. Damn. Carolina could not allow herself to get this weak!

Distracted, she missed yet again as his arm came down. The butt of the knife cracked against her spine, sending her sprawling. _Shit shit shit_ instinct kept Carolina alive. Her arm lashed out, seemingly of its own volition, knocking Felix’s feet out from under him. In perfect clarity she heard the air leave his lungs as the breath was knocked out of him. Her feet flexed back, giving her a perfect springboard to launch forward. She pounced, landing on him and driving whatever pitiful amount of air he’d managed to get into his lungs out.

His knife hand came flying toward her but Carolina was prepared. The heel of one hand came up, twisting the knife out of his grip while the other slammed against the pressure point of his upper arm. Immediately he was trying to grab it again with his other hand, but with a wide swing of her arm, Carolina sent the knife clattering against the pavement some thirty feet away.

With an angry yell he pivoted underneath her. The world tilted unpleasantly as she rolled with the movement, landing on her feet. Felix was scrambling towards the discarded blade. Carolina was quicker, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him back, away from the knife. He tumbled, a little unsteady, but coming to land on one knee. Carolina glared down at him in satisfaction. This was too easy.

There was a flash of fear in his eyes as she loomed over him. Carolina was not an unfair fighter. It was not in her nature to kick an opponent while they were down. It took logic to squash that basic instinct. This was _Felix_. Back-stabbing, genocidal, sociopathic _Felix_ beneath her, not some enemy cadet who didn’t know what they’d signed up for. It was not her place to show him mercy now. He definitely wouldn’t if their positions were reversed.

Too slow. He pulled himself to his feet, wrapping his considerably long fingers around her throat and gripping _hard_. Small sounds of protest came from her throat. Pointless, really. Just wasting what little air she’d had when he’d grabbed her.

But something in Felix’s face changed when those little noises escaped. His pupils dilated ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and jaw opening, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came. His grip around her tightened cutting off any further sounds she might have uttered. There was a shift in his expression, an unnamable something crossing his features as he leaned in towards her. His breath ghosted across her lips, his face too close for comfort.

Something like liquid fire erupted in her stomach. A ridiculous part of her brain wondered if she’d come into contact with a live volcano, but she didn’t have time to contemplate on it. It was so unexpected, so _foreign_ , she couldn’t put a name to it. That combined with the continued loss of air, and Carolina couldn’t sit still any longer. Base instinct took over, acting for her where levelheaded cognition failed to. Her knee came up to his groin, her hands snapping at his elbows, forcing him to relinquish his hold on her neck.

The sudden rush of oxygen had her swooning. After a dizzy moment swaying on her feet, her legs gave out and down she went. Her hands touched the pavement, orienting her. Slowly, she took a deep breath. Then another.

An embarrassed part of her brain didn’t want to look at Felix. That would mean seeing his face, looking into those dark eyes and possibly seeing something she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. She couldn’t have missed that though, that curious, excited look he’d had. However they were in the middle of a fight, and if she intended on making it out alive, she had to keep her eye on him at all times. So she looked. And instantly regretted it. 

He was on all fours, staring at her wide-eyed, breathing heavily through his mouth. His face still had that inexplicable look, one that both mystified her and punched her heavily in the gut. 

“God that was hot,” he growled breathlessly. Another twist in her abdomen and Carolina could suddenly put a name the feeling. _Attraction. Desire._ She stopped breathing altogether, nausea clawing at her stomach.

That still embarrassed part of her really didn’t want to continue this fight. It was trapped though. Trapped because there was no way around it at this point and…loath as she was to admit it, a smaller, less logical part of her brain really wanted this fight to go on, to see where it would go.

In a moment, Carolina made the decision not to let her (obviously shaken mental health) physical… _appetite_ …conflict with the absolute need to get rid of Felix. Chorus was in danger- _her friends_ were in danger, as long as Felix was allowed to continue stomping around on Armonia city streets.

So she tackled him, pinning him down and punching him hard across the cheek. “I love it when they fight back,” he grunted underneath her. An outburst of fire took place in her gut that she carefully ignored (attempted to). Instead she chose to throw another punch.

Uh oh. A miss. His hands grabbed at her waist and clenched _hard_ , and in a blur he had her on her back. Her breath left her body as she smacked against the pavement and then he was towering over her, his eyes bright, nostrils flared. She tried to scoot backward but that only opened a gap between her legs that Felix shoved his hips into. Oh god, oh no. A mixture of panic, fear, and oddly _desire_ exploded in her brain, wiping away her next move. What was happening? Why wasn’t her body responding to her brain? What was- 

His teeth scraped his lower lip. “I always loved a good fight,” he rumbled, low in his chest. Carolina could see that he was panting. She could see it then, the wild gleam in his dark eyes and obvious _want_ that he was not even bothering to hide at this point.

Something in her snapped. It was all too much, the fear of the changes her body was going through, the _years_ of shame and regret, the loneliness that had both held her back and sprung her forward all this time, the exhaustion of constantly fighting the endless supply of enemies... there were so many thoughts and emotions, too many for her to feel all at once. So she gave up, gave in. All of these things crashed into one another in her brain, like erasers on a chalkboard and wiping her clear of all rational thought.

Her head jerked forward, lips locking against Felix’s. Carolina could feel him start with surprise, but only for a moment before he responded enthusiastically. Then his lips were moving against hers, tongue in her mouth. His breath was gross, but Carolina didn’t care. All she cared about was the shivers that ran through her body when he pinned her wrists by her ear, long fingers digging into her flesh hard enough that she would definitely have bruises.

He nipped carefully at the tip of her tongue, as though testing the waters. Carolina responded by pressing herself even harder against him, straining against the hold he had on her wrists. He seemed to like that, as she could feel his smirk against her lips. Then he snapped his teeth together against her lower lip, breaking skin. Carolina gasped against the pain, and much to her surprise, her hips snapped up against him.

Felix leaned back and flashed her that evil grin of his. Her blood was on his teeth and the air left her body as if she’d taken another punch. No, Carolina had taken many punches in her lifetime and this was definitely worse.

His mouth attached to her throat, tongue pressing into the bruises from where he’d choked her earlier. Carolina moaned involuntarily at the sensation. It hurt, but oh god, _oh god_ did it feel good. Felix pressed his lips into her throat and sucked ruthlessly, adorning her skin with a nebula of purple and red. She felt his teeth plunge into her skin and whined.

When he pulled back to admire his work she actually whimpered. His grin widened, the red blood-stain on his teeth drawing her eyes even when she tried not to let it. Soft hands caressed her face in direct contradiction to his earlier roughness, but his voice was so quiet and calm, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry, babe,” he cooed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Confusion and something like hurt swept through her like a storm when he moved away from her. She sat up, her brow knitted as she watched him crawl on all fours across the ground. All of the turmoil in her head came screeching to a halt as he lifted something shiny into the air, holding it up for her to get a good look at.

It was the discarded knife.

An explosion of something like excitement opened in her gut, making her stare open-mouthed as he made his way back to her. When his lips pulled at hers again, she felt every sensation as if it were heightened tenfold, his tongue down her throat making her breath ragged, his hand on her hip making her shudder.

At first he just ran the steel tip of along the skin of her bare arm. For the duration Carolina was frozen, too afraid to move toward the blade lest she get cut, too afraid to move away and lose the tingly sensation left in a trail following the blade tip along her triceps. He pressed the edge a little harder, the tip nicking skin just a little, not a real cut or even painful, like pulling a seriously stubborn ingrown hair. But the feeling was intense and Carolina tilted her head back, eyes closing. Wow. Carolina never thought she’d _like_ it but the pain is _so good_ and the feeling of Felix’s lips once again pulling at the bruises around her neck were otherworldly.

Carolina was too distracted by the feeling of him decimating the skin on her neck to pay attention to much else. So it wasn’t entirely surprising that she failed the notice the knife tip no longer dragging along her arm. She _did_ notice when Felix began to pull away again, and she dug her fingers into his back and used her surprising strength to pull him back toward her, letting her lips hungrily taste his jawline.

There was a flash of silver in her peripherals. The knife was coming up towards her throat. Fear shot through her. Oh god, she’d let herself get distracted and now he was going to use that knife to slit her throat- oh no. No he didn’t. Instead, he held the knife vertically, so close to her collarbone. Felix’s eyes were watching hers, enjoyment flickering across face when he noticed the fear there. But he didn’t cut her. He brought the knife down with force, ripping through the fabric of her shirt with ease.

_Holy hell_. “Oh my god,” Carolina breathed, and joined him in ripping the ruined fabric away from her. She would have been content to let him rip all her clothes off like that, but comfortable non-sports bras were hard to come by on Chorus anymore, and she really didn’t want to lose the one she was wearing. Hurriedly, she unhooked it from the back, slipping it off her shoulders with ease. 

Her breasts ached with the sudden freedom, the cold air hardening her nipples. They hung while she laid back down, the pavement scraping her back. Felix licked his lips, watching them for just a moment before lowering his mouth to her tit.

“Oo _ooh shit!_ ” she moaned as his tongue flicking pleasantly against her nipple. Her hands clawed against his suit, pulling at the zipper, and he paused long enough to let her pull it off him in a fevered rush. A moment later and he’d shrugged off his undershirt and his mouth was back at her breast and _oh fuck!_

Against her hip was a tingle of cold. Felix was dragging the flat of the blade up her hip and shit shit _shit_ that was everything she needed in the world. “Shit,” she breathed aloud and she actually felt his fucking smirk into her boob.

Without so much as a warning, he tilted the blade and dragged a long cut into the meat of lower waist. It wasn’t enough pressure to do lasting damage, but enough to cut the skin. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as she might have expected it to. Really, it felt like a slight pinch. The next thing she felt was a warm trickle of blood.

Felix sat up again, that stupid wicked smile on his face when he lifted the blade with her blood on it and brought the flat of it against his tongue, licking her blood right off. “Oh god,” she choked, eyes flying wide. The smirk on his face widened into cruel laughter while she pulled at the waistband on his underwear. In a flash, she had pulled them down and he tugged uselessly at her pants. She lifted her hips to give him room, and then her pants were down and he was lining himself up and- 

Carolina was surprisingly wet, but it wasn’t the same as having foreplay involved, or especially lube. So when he pierced into her, she could feel the sharp pain like a tear following the head of his dick as he plunged into her. Only it was a _good_ kind of pain, the kind of pain that had her arching her back off the ground (hitting her head painfully in the process) and rutting her hips forward. She cried out as he pulled back and did it again. And again.

He set a fast pace, nearly pulling out and slamming into her hard enough to scrape her back against the ground. His head was thrown back, so Carolina couldn’t see his face, which was just as well because she wanted a minute to digest all of the different feelings in her body, the sticky cut on her side, the little nicks in her arm, the throb of the bruises on her neck. She thought she could still taste him on her tongue, cool wet with a tint of copper. And of course the ripping sensation coming from within her own body as he pounded into her again and again.

His warm mouth was on her breasts again, the other one this time, only he wasn’t as gentle as before. Now he was sucking hard, leaving a wake of red and purple in his track as he moved along at a considerably slow pace given the way he was slamming into her. When his teeth ground into her, she moaned shakily and shifted slightly, giving him better access. His tongue gently caressed the bite before he did it again, closer to her nipple now.

They went like that for what felt like forever. In reality it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but even that was a long time to grind into the street. In a feat of durability that impressed Carolina, he lifted one arm off the ground and trailed down her body, pressing into the marks he’d left and even trailing along the cut before making its way down to where he was currently sliding back in (did the pain ever truly go away? It reminded her of the first time she’d ever had sex, and how she’d been sore for weeks after.) Gently, carefully, his finger circled around the top of her clit.

Carolina had never considered herself one to be loud in bed, but now she couldn’t stop the flow of noises as the sensations flooded her. Pain from where he was having his way with her and intense pleasure from where he was sliding his fingers against the sides of her clitoris in _just_ the right way. Sensible Carolina would have worried about people hearing her. Then again, Sensible Carolina probably wouldn’t have started fucking on a well-used path where a patrol could come upon them at any given second.

It wasn’t long after that that the heat began pooling in her gut. She couldn’t have resisted if she tried, leaning into his fingers in an attempt to get more friction. All the while he was still going and while that was good, it was becoming clearer by the second that Carolina wasn’t going to last that much longer.

She rutted her hips upward when she came, uttering an unearthly and downright slutty moan. Her orgasm peaked and it felt so good, like she was floating. But Felix wasn’t done yet, and his grin was downright nasty as he continued to finger at her clit even after she has finished. He kept pounding into her and swirled his fingertip across her lips and it was too much, too good, almost painful. Then it _was_ painful and she _loved_ it, surprising herself not for the first time that day.

When he got close, he _finally_ released her clit to hold himself up properly. He thrust in deep once, twice, then released with a guttural sigh and a shudder. He waited just a bare moment before pulling out and flopping onto the ground next to her. For a moment, the only thing she saw was the bright leaves overhead, only heard the hard breathing from both of them. 

Now that the afterglow was wearing off, a thoughtless, vibrant panic was settling in. Neither one spoke to the other, and Carolina really didn’t want to be the one to break it. Too many worries were swirling around in her head. Had she really just done that? Had she really fucked _Felix_ , of all people? Was she _insane_?! She knew hardly anything about him! What if he was diseased? What was his real name? What if she got pregnant? No, she didn’t have to worry about that one, did she? Oh _god_ , what if someone found out?

Felix rolled over, looking at her with real interest and opening his mouth as if he were about to speak. No no _no_ , she was not ready for any sort of Conversation. This could not be happening. Suddenly Felix froze, looking over his shoulder with an expression that could be worry.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his undersuit to him before he _raced_ away. He must have made one fantastic jump, because the next thing she saw was the shaking of a nearby tree limb, and Felix was gone.

For a brief moment, she thought maybe luck was on her side, but no, Felix had to have run away for some reason. And that reason became clear in a familiar bark of laughter. Immediately near-hysterical panic blasted through her as if she’d plunged in a raging river. She _knew_ that laugh. That was Tucker’s laugh, and it was right around the corner. 

Carolina blamed her years of Freelancer training for the speed with which she took off. It took her less than an entire second to gather her clothes to her body and fly around the nearest corner. She crouched behind a dumpster, breathing what could only be described as years-old pizza-box and a-dead-animal-thrown-into-the-microwave-on endless-nuke. Only her urgent desire to not get caught kept her from gagging.

“Wait stop,” Tucker said on the other side of the wall. There was a muted reply, and then Tucker spoke again. “No, I thought I saw something.” Another inaudible answer. “No wait, just a deer-cat thing. What are those things called again?” His voice trailed off as the patrol moved on. Carolina breathed a sigh of relief (a mistake considering what she was sitting next to).

She pulled her pants up, buttoning them into place. Her bra was okay, but her shirt was utterly ruined. She wrapped it around her anyway, hoping to hide the worst of the bruises. It kind of surprised her to find that she was clutching the knife. How had she ended up with that?

Several close calls and a painful dive behind a less stinky dumpster later, Carolina found herself back in her room. How she got back to her quarters without being noticed, Carolina could never say. Probably sheer, dumb luck at this point. And those years of Freelancer training finally paying off in stride.

Slowly she ran a hand through her hair, alone with her thoughts at last. Guilt mixed with shame and a serious amount of fear were tumbling in her brain as if she were a drying machine. Had she really _wanted_ that? Wanted Felix’s hands and mouth and teeth all over her, bruising her and making her bleed? She glanced at her reflection in her mirror and winced. Her neck was almost entirely black and blue, especially on her left side. Her hair was a mess, her lip was swollen with puncture marks and red flecks of dried blood. There were two consecutive bite marks on her right breast, undeniably leading to her swollen nipple. The cut on her waist had stopped bleeding, but it would be a while before that healed.

All in all, she looked a mess. A terrible beaten mess. And yet…when she ran her fingers gently along what was clearly a hickey over a bruise over her carotid artery, a small tremor of…something ran through her. Something good. She liked it.

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Carolina had really liked what had happened today. There was something thrilling about having done it with _Felix_ , of all people. What with him being the enemy and knowing it was totally wrong, but somehow that was part of the rush. And for the pain and the beating…Carolina had not known she’d had that in her. She thought back to the moment when he’d licked the blood off the blade…It had taken her breath away, quite literally. In a weird way, she almost wanted it to happen again. Maybe.

Carolina slept very little that night, constant shooting glances over to where the knife sat on her desktop. She couldn’t see it in the black of the room, but she knew it was there, and that was the important thing. Guilt, shame, want, some pain, a couple of flutters of panic, lust…all of it floated in her head, preventing her from relaxing into sleep. Not loneliness though. Company was the last thing she needed.

The next day, she donned a scarf when she visited the infirmary. It was too early for a pregnancy test, and Carolina didn’t think she was ready to ask for one anyway. She did demand her armor back though, sighing in relief when she was given space to put it back on.

She would spend the next two weeks not allowing anyone to see anything more than her face. She surprised nearly everyone by taking as much time in her room as she could when she wasn’t on missions. It was imperative that no one see her without her armor, see her bruises, and that was easier when she was alone. By the time she came back to work full time, most of the scars and bruises had faded away to nothing. She wiped her mind blank before stiffly accepting Epsilon back from Tucker. Carolina could feel his curiosity at her change humming in the back of her head, but he never probed her thoughts for an answer, and didn’t ask, so she didn’t tell him. 

By the time the month ended, Carolina felt almost back to normal. No signs of disease, no signs of pregnancy, no awkward questions. Whatever it was Felix had awoken in her was still there, still present, but put away in the back of her mind. Chorus was in trouble. Her people needed Carolina. Carolina’s friends needed her to lead them. She could put this behind her. She did.

She kept the knife though.


End file.
